


Snow Angels 4

by sudapigrafool



Series: Snow Angels [4]
Category: My So-Called Life
Genre: M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudapigrafool/pseuds/sudapigrafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should be simple; sometimes your history turns out to be your destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Angels 4

Jordan can feel Shane’s hand on his back and it’s like broken code.

He’s confused. The language of Shane’s touch is familiar to him, but somehow, today, the message won’t come through clearly. It’s too full of their shared past and the ghosts of other things there have never been words for.

When they were younger, Shane was the friend who was always giving Jordan a black eye, or rolling him in the mud, but never because they didn’t like each other. They did. A lot, in fact. They were practically inseparable. Most of the damage they managed to do to each other was superficial and the result of some unanticipated outcome. Like a broken tree branch, or a fist that went left instead of right. A flipped grocery cart full of passengers racing full tilt down hill. But, once or twice it was something else Jordan could never put his finger on, and as they got older the bruises weren’t always visible ones.

Today it was the wordless look he saw on Shane’s face after finding him huddled under the bleachers with Angela.

Because just like Jordan, Shane is a guy who doesn’t talk too much either. He knows how to keep stuff to himself. And at the moment, like usual, he’s not running off at the mouth. The best thing about that is, whenever they’re together, Jordan never has the feeling like he’s under constant verbal assault or struggling to come up with the quickest comeback. Which is exactly how he feels around a lot of their friends and some of the other people they hang out with. When he’s with Shane, Jordan can just relax and not worry. Be himself. On the other hand, sometimes Jordan gets the impression all that silence is actually trying to tell him something, but so far he hasn’t been able to figure it out.

"A man of few words," was how Jordan’s dad had once described Shane, managing to make it sound like a compliment and an unsavory trait all at the same time.

Shane had a laugh that Jordan simply could not resist, though. As kids they were constantly collapsing against each other in meaningless fits of conspiratorial giggles. For absolutely no reason whatsoever. Jordan always knew to expect Shane might lunge at him at any unsuspecting moment, and wrestle him to the ground. No warning. Just, grab him by the shirt and take him down in a turf dive. Then somehow Jordan would end up with a ripped sleeve or a torn pocket, because that was just the way it went whenever Shane was around. Shit happened, it was the nature of things.

For years, Jordan’s mother had maintained her vigilant, persistent horror over the state of their "friendship," but try as she might, she could never discourage it. They understood each other. There were school yard tackles, rolling and grappling on the lawn, and dog piles in front of the TV set. Between the two of them, they’d had a whole repertoire of slapstick affection, the only object of which seemed to be having their own homemade brand of roughhouse therapy for letting the demons out.

Then, middle school happened. Newton’s law, and "Lord of the Flies," preppies and freaks. Geometry was tough and grammar even tougher. Eighth grade wasn’t the first time Jordan got left back, but it was the time that mattered more. At the end of the year, Shane had passed on to ninth grade and was officially a freshman. That fall, he’d disappeared into a whole other world at Liberty High School, while Jordan stayed behind.

The firm pressure on the back of Jordan’s coat lets him know Shane’s hand is still there, guiding him along under the bleachers. Keep moving. Don’t look back.

So, he does. And he doesn’t.

Because Jordan knows if he looks back, for one thing, he’ll probably see Angela still standing there watching them like she’s worried about him, and she’s got _concerns_. But, there’ll be all kinds of female disapproval radiating off of her, too. Like _solar wind_ , he thinks to himself, having heard those words in science class. Like, a hot sun and a dry wind. Those were good words, Jordan thought. He’s been saving them up for a song lyric.

Also, if he looks back, Jordan supposes he’ll be able to feel the strain of Angela’s longing following after him. So there’s that, too. Definitely that’s something Jordan would rather not get tangled up in. He’s no stranger to women who seem to think they know exactly what they want, and it’s _him_ , when the truth is more like they haven’t really made up their minds yet. Not for sure. Maybe, Jordan considers, they never do.

Sometimes Jordan thinks just because he doesn’t say much women like to imagine he’s this blank page, and they can write whatever they want on it, but it’s not true. He comes with his own story, even if he’s reluctant to tell it. And the other thing is, it’s dangerous to have people think they want you so bad, only to find out later they can’t deal with the reality. ‘Cause then, there’s this let down. And maybe what’s _real_ is too much for them. Or maybe, Jordan thinks, it’s him who isn’t enough. Either way, there never seems to be anything he can do about it. Fate, he’s noticed, never asks him for an opinion. If he looks back, it’ll be like every other time he’s tried to salvage a fading moment. Whatever happens, happens without stopping to get his approval.

The gravel under his feet has turned to grass. They’ve emerged from under the grandstand only a few yards away from the stadium’s main gate. Shane quit nudging him from behind a while ago, but Jordan can still hear the thump thud of his boots hitting the ground like muffled drum beats, each sturdy step following right on the heels of Jordan’s own.

\----------

Jordan wants to get some things from his house while it’s still his semi-home, but not, he tells Shane, while his Dad is there. Shane figures that means he wants to avoid a confrontation, or _another_ confrontation. So, first they drive down his block to check things out, and there’s his father’s pick-up parked in front of the garage.

Shane wants to ask what the hell is going on between Jordan and his dad this time. He needs details, but Jordan’s stony silence is its own warning. Don’t ask. So instead, he hunkers down on his side of the front seat without comment as they slide passed Jordan’s house and his old man’s truck in the driveway. Jordan doesn’t slow down or speed up. He just drives along till they get to the corner, then makes a left hand turn heading off in the direction of Shane’s place.

When they get there, Shane’s mom isn’t home. They have the house to themselves which is the state of affairs Jordan’s become used to. He steps through the door and goes straight towards Shane’s room like it was his own.

"Cold in here," he says over his shoulder. And Shane stops in the hall to bump up the heat. Doesn’t seem like anyone has been there all day since he left that morning. When he catches up with Jordan, he sees him tossing his coat onto the bed and then stop for a second to stare silently out the window.

"You wanna take a shower?" Shane offers. He pulls a dresser drawer open and reaches inside. "You can wear some of my clothes."

Jordan makes a curt sound that’s probably a laugh when he looks over and sees Shane holding out a pair of gray sweat pants and a t-shirt. "Dude," he says with a crooked grin. "You’re a little smaller than me."

"Yeah, but," Shane replies, "you said you wanted to take a shower and, ah, you really could use a shower, no offense, and…" he’s holding the pants up high above his waist to show their length. "These are actually yours. I borrowed them last summer." He smirks guiltily.

"Oh."

Truthfully, Shane’s not sure why he never returned them, except that they’re comfortable. He’s never worn them outside of the house. Maybe to bed a few times at night, that’s all.

Jordan doesn’t seem to remember the pants or Shane having them, but he also doesn’t seem surprised either. He accepts the clothes from Shane’s hands and clomps directly down the hall to the bathroom. So, yup, this must still be the plan. Shower, and then later, back over to the loft. For now, the fact that all Jordan’s belongings are being held hostage by his fucked up family situation hasn’t changed anything.

Meanwhile, Shane thinks, if he goes digging around there are probably a few more of Jordan’s clothes somewhere in the back of his closet. But, not enough to be an entire wardrobe. If he has to, Jordan can always borrow an over-sized shirt and some socks from him, but pants and underwear… mmm, no. Shane pauses a minute. They really should wash the clothes Jordan has on so at least he’ll have something clean to wear for school tomorrow. For the moment, that seems like the best they can do.

The bathroom door is only partway shut when Shane approaches. Jordan has left it open a few deliberate inches, maybe to let the steam from the shower out and some cooler air in. But then again, maybe not. Maybe it has nothing to do with air circulation. Shane’s hesitating, but he isn’t sure why. It’s like the gap between the door and door frame is presenting him with some sort of riddle. A math problem he has to solve, or calculation he needs to make. Like, it’s some kind of mysterious social equation involving a span of undetermined space roughly as wide as a human hand. Intrusion or invitation? It’s hard to know which. For a second, he thinks about knocking first, but since when did they start knocking? He can hear the water running and smell the scent of his shampoo, so…

He pushes his way in. Still, he feels the need to at least let Jordan know he’s standing there on the other side of the shower curtain. "Hey," he mutters over the patter of falling water. And for the moment, that’s about all he can say.

Chilly air and the hot shower have already combined to form a haze in the room. He sees the shadow of Jordan’s broad-shouldered silhouette shifting behind the simple sheet of waterproof plastic that separates them. On the other side of its translucent surface, Jordan is slowly moving in and out of soft focus, blurry and blurrier. Wherever he brushes up against it, Shane can clearly see the color of his skin. Jordan's hands are scrubbing over his arms and torso, down the length of his chest and across his belly. Then he steps up under the shower’s spray turning his back to the room, and where Shane is standing. Shane stares. This is _crazy_. He’s seeing Jordan in a way he’s never actually considered before. Ever. Like, never even thought about, really. Both Shane's feet seem rooted to the floor, but in his head he's already measured out the distance; one step, he’s thinking. If he takes just one more step, he’ll be close enough to... He catches himself breathing with his lips parted.

And then he blinks. Because, whoa, this is nothing like the locker room in gym class. Or any other reasonable comparison Shane is desperate to bring to mind. Hell, no. Because until this moment, Shane has never thought anything about Jordan quite like… the way he’s thinking about him right now and, geez-o-man, it’s next to fucking _impossible_ not to start imagining the way it must feel with all that _soap and wet_ sliding over his warm naked flesh…

"’S there anything to eat?" Jordan’s voice echoes dully from inside small tub space.

"Probably some soup in the cupboard," Shane says. He’s answering on autopilot, and he knows it. Because the parts of his brain he might normally depend on for speech formation have been completely overwhelmed. It’s like all of a sudden his subconscious is running amok with animal instincts, and they’re giving his conscious self the biggest _"what the fuck?"_ of his life. "You want some?" he asks. His voice is working okay though. To his own ears he still sounds perfectly normal. At least.

"What kind?"

He’s going to be picky. Typical. "Tomato? Vegetable beef? I don’t know," Shane shrugs. Okay, this is good. This feels a whole lot better and way more like what he’s used to. Same old Jordan, same old back and forth over stupid stuff like they’re always doing.

"Not tomato."

Right. Shane knew that. It’s kinda comforting, actually, because for a second it helps put things back into their usual perspective. "You want grilled cheese?" Yeah, this is much, much better. He knows there’s almost always Velveeta in the fridge, because that shit never spoils like real food. And Shane can totally rock a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Yeah, I’m starved."

"Alright." Thank God. Shane feels like his head is clearing. Soo-o much better. What happened there a minute ago, that was nothing. Well, it was something, but… like, _weird_. Shane’s already decided he’s not going to dwell on it. Whatever it was, it seems to have passed, that’s the important part. It’s over now. He can forget about it. He bends down to grab Jordan’s hastily discarded clothes off the bathroom floor, which is what he came in for in the first place. "I’m going to throw your stuff in the washer," he says. "Okay?"

"Okay." Drowning under the noise of the shower, Shane barely has time to register the flat tone of Jordan’s answer before his flushed face and dripping hair appears unexpectedly around the curtain’s edge. He’s grinning, wet, and licking a trickle of water off his lips. Suddenly, a familiar bright blue flash of something like, _"I dare you,"_ is staring at Shane from under dark lashes flecked with shining droplets. For a second, it’s like they’re kids again. "You’re too good to me," Jordan drawls with a sly, teasing smile. Probably because it’s the exact same thing his mother used to say to them, back in their days of gathering sandlot wildflowers to win her over after the latest transgression.

But, that look. Oh, God, oh god…

For real, this is gonna be _the very moment_ Shane will always remember as the one when his entire world flipped on its axis and stopped spinning in its customary orbit.

\--stop--

 


End file.
